


Snow

by Kaneko



Category: Popslash, due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-04-15
Updated: 2002-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:45:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaneko/pseuds/Kaneko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hotel was old, with a staircase that creaked - even under Chris's light step. "It used to be a consulate," Lance said. "And Michael Jackson once stayed for a month." Lance knew everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow

**Author's Note:**

> _Written for['101 Ways To End Up In A Canadian Shack'](http://www.trickster.org/speranza/ShackedUp.html). Thanks Ces!  
> _

The hotel was old, with a staircase that creaked - even under Chris's light step. "It used to be a consulate," Lance said. "And Michael Jackson once stayed for a month." Lance knew everything.

Chris thought he liked it at first, because it was old, and had strange, winding corridors and kitschy paintings of the Queen. But after a while, he decided he didn't.

JC kept disappearing.

The first time it happened, no one thought anything of it--JC had a cat-like knack of finding quiet places to sleep. In Germany, Chris had once found him curled in a stairwell.

But then Joey wanted to take them all to a club, and no one could find him. Chris tried to tell himself that the butterflies in his stomach were just too much caffeine. But he felt a sharp stab of relief when he opened the door to JC's room, and saw him sitting on his bed, humming quietly to himself.

"You wanna go clubbing?"

JC shook his head, smiling. "I thought of this great new riff."

He was gone again in the morning--this time for six hours. Chris found him in the kitchen, eating a sandwich. It was 90 degrees outside, but JC's face was speckled with white. When Chris touched his cheek, his fingerscame away wet. "Where have you been?"

JC blinked at him slowly, as though he'd just woken up. "Nowhere. I was in my room," he said.

That evening, Chris piled blankets on the floor next to JC's bed. JC watched him, looking indecisive--like he wanted to tell Chris to go, but didn't have the heart. He made a small, choked noise when Chris reached over his shoulder and opened the closet door to get another blanket.

JC murmured and hummed in his sleep--wordless noises that made Chris shiver and feel reassured at the same time. The room was quiet when Chris woke, though. And when he looked at JC's bed, it was smooth and made up.

"You have to stop doing that," Chris said, when Lonnie had finished squeezing JC in a tight, angry hug, and they were alone again.

"I know." JC looked at him apologetically. "It's just. It's so quiet there, Chris." He stood up and stared out of the window, where there were two hundred girls with banners and sharp voices. "I can think about music. Without. The rest."

Chris bit his lip. "Will you show me?"

The closet looked exactly the same as the one in Chris's room--small, with cheap, thin shelves. It smelled faintly of applewood and smoke.

"Close your eyes," JC said. His own eyes were closed already. "Or it won't work. I kept walking into the shelf until I realised."

"JC," Chris said. He stroked his thumb over the sharp line of JC's cheekbone, and after a moment, JC opened his eyes. "JC," Chris said again.

"It's okay," JC murmured, and Chris felt JC's hand cover his. "It'll be okay. Come on."

(498 words)

* * *


End file.
